


what he deserves

by treesramblings



Series: tree’s anti-soulmate kinktober 2020 [2]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Bottom Tony Stark, Dubious Consent, Dubious Ethics, Feminization, Forced Feminization, Genderplay, Guilt, Lingerie, M/M, Manipulation, Power Dynamics, Top Steve Rogers, Unhealthy Relationships, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:09:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26943433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/treesramblings/pseuds/treesramblings
Summary: Steve hates all of his health ailments. Here he is, twenty four years old, incapable of caring for a wife in the manner in which society expects of him, but can’t because he catches sick every other week. He’s supposed to be the one to work, to bring home a paycheck, and to take care of his wife and his children. With how much he struggles to keep a steady job, Steve isn’t surprised at the amount of women who take a single look at him—scrawny, 5’4, 95 pounds—and dismiss him out of hand. Bucky tries his best to help him, setting him up with double dates, but Steve knows it’ll never be enough. As deeply as he wants to be the man of the household, to provide for and care for a wife the way his brain screams at him is right, he’ll never be able to.Then he gets Erskine's serum. Then he meets Tony Stark.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: tree’s anti-soulmate kinktober 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1958839
Comments: 32
Kudos: 150
Collections: Anti Soulmate Kinktober 2020





	what he deserves

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vicnic90](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vicnic90/gifts).



> special thanks to [my bff temp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aarxl180) for helping me beta this x all remaining mistakes are my own!

_then_

Steve hates all of his health ailments. Here he is, twenty four years old, incapable of caring for a wife in the manner in which society expects of him, but can’t because he catches sick every other week. He’s supposed to be the one to work, to bring home a paycheck, and to take care of his wife and his children. With how much he struggles to keep a steady job, Steve isn’t surprised at the amount of women who take a single look at him—scrawny, 5’4, 95 pounds—and dismiss him out of hand. Bucky tries his best to help him, setting him up with double dates, but Steve knows it’ll never be enough. As deeply as he wants to be the man of the household, to provide for and care for a wife the way his brain screams at him is right, he’ll never be able to.

* * *

And then, he meets Peggy Carter.

Peggy is beautiful. She’s strong, independent, intelligent, _brave_ —but her dedication to her work, to the SSR and the war effort… It’s not what Steve wants in a wife. Steve knows that if he did marry her, she would never let herself be the wife that Steve needs. She would never be content to stay at home, to care for the house and care for their children.

He wouldn’t mind working alongside his partner at work, but he knows Peggy would never be satisfied with him being the one in command. He knows she would want to have that independence, want to be able to decide things for herself without his input, and those aren’t things that Steve would allow his wife to do.

Steve hopes that Erskine’s formula will help Steve be the kind of man—the kind of _husband_ —that a woman would happily let provide for her, would trust to keep her comfortable, would lie down and let him be the one in _charge_. Maybe then Peggy would be more willing, if he looked the part of a capable husband.

The formula works.

Peggy doesn’t change her stance.

Steve goes into the ice.

_now_

Steve wakes up to a completely different world.

Everyone is meant to fend for themselves. Family is important, but not nearly as much as when he had been a child. It’s expected for children to move out at eighteen. The only reason that Steve did is because his mother died. He would have lived with her until he married. Apparently, after World War II, the economic boom made it easier for people to find jobs and people married young. The boom lasted just long enough for it to become standard to move out at eighteen.

SHIELD teaches him about what happened in the world while he was asleep. Phil Coulson, the man assigned to help him reintegrate into society, is the one who tells him what happened and helps him learn. The Civil Rights movement, the moon landing, the assassination of JFK, the Cold War, the Vietnam Conflict, the Women’s Rights movement, Ronald Reagan’s presidency, the Stonewall Riots, Watergate, 9/11, a black President—

Everything swirls around in his head. The culture shock is intense. Steve retreats and hides in his room when things get to be too much for him, and Coulson allows it, allows him to hide, and Steve is grateful for that if nothing else.

Everyone except Peggy is dead. Peggy, sweet Peggy, had lived exactly the way that Steve expected of her. She took no prisoners in her long life: she married a mild-mannered man named Daniel Sousa, had three children, and brought about the biggest secret agency the United States has ever had.

Steve doesn’t know how to respond.

He still wishes that she had been able to marry him. Maybe she felt she had to provide because of Sousa’s limp. Maybe, if Steve had been there, she would have been the accommodating wife he had wanted.

* * *

Steve learns more as time goes on. The New Year comes about and still nothing changes. Steve goes to a local gym, walks around New York, attends classes with Coulson, and tries to let himself adjust to another year even more removed from everything he knows.

Things stagnate for a while until finally Nick Fury comes to visit him while he’s at the gym.

He’s finally called back to battle.

Steve can’t tell if he’s relieved to do something that feels familiar—a soldier’s work, serving his country, fighting the good fight—or if he just wishes he could stop and have that wife and family he’s been wanting for so long.

He thinks, after everything he’s given to the world, that he deserves something for himself.

* * *

Steve meets Tony Stark.

Tony is so much like Peggy—his _godmother_ —that it astounds Steve. He’s strong, sure of where he belongs in the world, sure of his _worth_ , a true genius, and brave beyond compare. Steve argues with Tony, watches the fire and emotion sparking in his brown gaze, and sheer _want_ shoots through him.

Steve can see the cracks where he could slip in, where Tony is screaming for dominance and for someone to take away all the responsibility that he carries. Steve can tell, more easily than he’s ever understood anything before, that Tony is begging with all but his words for someone to care for him after a lifetime of caring for himself and being hurt, abused, and denied of the love he deserves.

Steve wants a wife, wants a woman to take care of, but looking at Tony—a man who wears lifts in his shoes, who wraps himself in armor to keep himself protected, who is so short and small and easy to wrap in his arms—Steve knows he could help Tony realize his true potential. Steve could see Tony taking up the role of his wife.

He watches as Tony flies into a wormhole to save New York—well, realistically, the world, what with nuclear fallout—and knows that Tony doesn’t expect to return. Steve watches as what he’s allowed himself to look forward to, to hope for, to guide him in this new world, slips from his grasp.

_(“Stark, you know that’s a one-way trip.”_

_Tony doesn’t respond, doesn’t say anything, only attaches himself to the nuke and flies, up, up, past the tower, past Natasha, and disappears into the portal._

_Over the comms, Natasha whispers, “Come on, Stark.”_

_Steve shares a look with Thor. Even though it kills him to say it, he still orders:_

_“Close it.”_

_Steve can’t tear his eyes away from the portal, watching, waiting, hoping—_

_Tony falls through right before it closes._

_“Son of a gun.”_

_But he doesn’t slow down, and Thor prepares to catch him, but then instead the Hulk does and drops him on the street next to Thor and Steve—_

_Steve runs over, hoping for Tony to be okay—_

_“Is he breathing?”_

_Thor removes Tony’s faceplate, and Steve falls to his knees, putting his ear over Tony’s chest, hoping to hear a heartbeat through the suit, because what is enhanced hearing for if not this?_

_He haltingly sits up, his hand running down the suit, hovering over the reactor, hoping—_

_Nothing._

_He holds the tears back. He drops his hand to his knee._

_The Hulk howls, a desolate sound, and Tony jerks, a small yell escaping him, and Tony’s heart_ roars _ba-thump, ba-thump, ba-thump—_

_Tony jokes about shawarma._

_Steve smiles.)_

After Thor and Loki are sent back to Asgard, the accursed Tesseract with them, Steve watches Bruce and Tony drive off together and decides he needs time to himself without any expectations, where he can just be _Steve Rogers_ , and takes a road trip across America. He doesn’t know what drives him to do it, but he sends postcards to Tony whenever he stops somewhere, and isn’t surprised when he sees postcards waiting for him when he reaches a stopping point for the day.

It takes months, but Steve eventually makes his way out to California, and when he arrives in Malibu one hot July evening, he reaches a tiny restaurant, a mom and pop malt and burger stop with a quintessential American vibe. He’s not surprised to see Tony leaning against one of his cars, double-fisting two malts. Steve pulls up next to him and stops his bike, staring at Tony for a moment before huffing out a laugh, his eyes dropping to the ground and then back up to Tony in embarrassment.

He doesn’t say anything. Tony doesn’t either, surprisingly, and the two of them lean against Tony’s car in mutual silence. Steve accepts the drink from Tony, a butter pecan malt, and holds back a grin. As they watch the sun set in front of them, Tony finally turns and faces Steve.

“I have a house out here. Wanna come over?”

Steve is helpless but to follow.

* * *

They end up on the private beach Tony owns next to his house, having walked down a winding path from the cliffside to the inlet. Tony throws over a pair of swim trunks for Steve, a patriotic flag motif, and Steve rolls his eyes before stripping and pulling the trunks on.

Tony doesn’t change out of his outfit, but sits at the edge of a pier leading out into the water. Steve follows and jumps in the water, lazing about in the gentle waves for a while before swimming out to sea much farther than he would normally dare. By the time he makes it back to the inlet, Tony has somehow produced another drink for Steve, and he climbs out of the water and tosses his hair out of his eyes.

He doesn’t miss the appreciative glance Tony sends his way and then tries to subtly hide.

“Why won’t you join me?” Steve says, motioning out to the waves with his hands on his hips. “It’s your private beach, after all.”

“Water and I don’t mix very well anymore,” Tony says, and it’s the haunted look in his eyes that tells Steve everything he needs to know.

Steve sits closer to Tony than he normally would, brushing his shoulder against Tony’s, and Steve hides his smile at Tony’s blush in his drink. The sun sets in front of them and the silence is peaceful, the absence of voices between them comfortable in a way Steve hasn’t felt since Bucky.

Steve doesn’t know why he feels compelled to be around Tony. He doesn’t know what has made him feel so attracted and besot with the man, but Steve lost his chance once. He’s the _Man Out of Time_ already, and Steve doesn’t want to lose an opportunity with another person again.

When they go into Tony’s mansion, Steve doesn’t hesitate to draw Tony into bed.

Tony is beautiful. He’s small, with lean muscle but thick arms, the definition telling a story of a man who works with his arms, building miracles and shaping the future. His thighs are shapely, wrapping around Steve’s waist with powerful strength, and Steve holds back a groan as he slides himself in.

He’s captivated all over again, and Steve grasps Tony’s waist with his hands. He can’t help himself when he whispers, “You would look beautiful in a garter set.”

Tony pauses for a moment, looking up at Steve, and Steve thrusts in with small increments, watching the flex of Tony’s abdominal muscles as he works himself. A shudder flows down his back.

“I’m not—not really into crossdressing, Cap,” Tony groans.

Steve doesn’t view it as crossdressing, not really. When he thinks of crossdressing, he thinks of the drag queens he saw standing outside a club while he drove through El Paso. No, for Tony, he imagines him in a frilled dress, a sweetheart neckline and pearls around his neck, red lipstick and black heels with nylon stockings up shaved legs—

It’s only a moment later that the thought is enough to drive Steve into coming inside Tony, bruises already blossoming on Tony’s hips.

* * *

Steve and Tony meet up often, whether for dinner, for Avengers business, for sex—Steve becomes addicted to Tony and his companionship. He learns what makes Tony’s genuine laugh burst out on his face, the one that brings into focus his crow’s feet around his eyes. He learns Tony’s limits, where he shuts down and hides in the lab for hours or days on end. He learns how to wring out a third orgasm from Tony’s overstimulated body, tears falling down his eyes as Steve takes and takes and takes.

He wants even more than ever to see Tony dressed up for him, and he approaches the conversation again.

“You’d look—” he gasps, thighs trembling with the effort of holding Tony against the wall, “—you’d look beautiful in a USO outfit.”

“Yeah?” Tony huffs out. “You know I don’t like that.”

“Please,” Steve whispers, punctuating the plea with an especially rough thrust. “I’ve always wanted to see you in one, it’s not a lot to ask, is it? Just this one thing?”

“Okay, okay, just—do that again—”

* * *

When Steve sees Tony in the outfit, it’s like everything has come together and led to this moment.

He rips the stockings down Tony’s thighs, biting and sucking hickeys all along him, and eats Tony out until he _screams_.

After, Steve mumbles out a thank you. Tony looks over at Steve, his chest rising and falling just a touch more than normal, and says, “I didn’t really enjoy the dressing up, to be honest, but I can’t argue with the results.”

Steve beams. He can work with that. He can show Tony that this is something he can learn to love.

* * *

“Just a little garter belt, Tony—”

“You know I don’t like those, Steve—Oh, fuck, right there—”

“It would make me—me so happy—I did the handcuffs last week for you, didn’t I?”

“I guess— _fuck_ —okay, fine.”

* * *

“Just a bit of charcoal,” Steve says over dinner.

“ _Steve_ , I said I don’t like it!” Tony protests, glare on his face.

“But it drives me _crazy_ , Tony, you’ve seen how I get. I thought you wanted me happy? I thought you said you liked to see me happy, but now you’re telling me no?” Steve argues back.

Tony falters, his gaze softening. “I do, Steve. More than anything, I do. Just—Why this? Can’t we compromise?”

Steve looks down at his plate, the carbonara half eaten, and shrugs a shoulder. “I guess it’s just… something I always wanted as a kid. I always loved seeing the women of my time walk around in beautiful outfits, the charcoal on their eyes and the red on their lips, a bit of rouge on their cheeks, with the nylon stockings and the black kitten heels, and it was always… it was always out of my reach.”

“Steve…” Tony sighs. “I’m not—I’m a _man_. I know you know that. I don’t like dressing in women’s clothing.”

Steve frowns, and holds the silence between then for two beats longer than is comfortable, and then nods his head, defeated. “I know you’re not. It’s just a dumb fantasy.”

“Hey, now, you can always come to me with your fantasies, Steve,” Tony says. After a heavy, quiet moment, Tony concedes. “Okay, we can try it. I’ll figure something out.”

“Do you mean that, Tony?” Steve says, perking up and meeting Tony’s gaze with a bright smile. “You’ll do that for me?”

Tony nods, his face unreadable, and Steve preens.

* * *

The Avengers have calls back to back and Tony and Steve aren’t able to get time alone. When they finally do, almost two weeks after their dinner conversation, Tony pounces on Steve. “Now, now, I need your cock in me now, Steve, please—”

“But—” Steve gulps. “I thought you were going to dress up?”

“I will, later, I promise, just get inside me, Rogers—” Tony begs, pulling at Steve’s cowl and reaching for his uniform zipper.

“Can I choose the outfit?” Steve dares to ask. When Tony looks up at him, his eyes are blown and his breath is already laboured.

“I’ll do whatever makes you happy, Captain, as long as _you_ make _me_ happy and get the _fuck in me_.”

* * *

Their first anniversary arrives and Tony takes Steve out on a date to Greece. Steve sneaks away for a moment and buys a beautiful one-shoulder dress, and when they get back to the hotel suite, Steve shows it to Tony.

The resigned look in Tony’s eye only lasts long enough for Tony to sigh until he nods his head, giving in. The rush of power and dominance that flows through Steve’s veins at Tony’s submission is the best kind of drug.

* * *

Steve overhears a conversation between Natasha and Tony one day, their whispers only discernible because of his enhanced hearing.

“Lingerie suggestions? Tony, you don’t even enjoy lingerie. Why would you want it?” Natasha asks.

Steve holds his breath, awaiting Tony’s response, hoping, and hears, “Steve likes it, Nat. It doesn’t matter what I feel about it. Anything that makes Steve happy is something I’m going to do.”

Before Natasha can respond, Steve noisily walks into the kitchen, interrupting their conversation and kissing Tony on the cheek. “Good morning, love.”

Tony blushes and Steve’s hindbrain prowls. He wants to wrap himself around Tony, wants to keep him close and near him and away from outside influences that will try to undo all of the hard work that Steve has put into molding Tony into what Steve deserves.

Natasha’s contemplative look isn’t enough to make Steve feel guilty. Steve knows what he wants, knows what Tony _needs_ , and will do what he has to in order to get it.

* * *

“No one will ever know,” Steve breathes. “Just me. I swear. You want to please me, don’t you, Tony? This would please me so much.”

“It’s too much, Steve. I don’t—”

“Please, baby,” Steve pleads. “You’re always so good for me. This would be even better. Don’t you think I deserve it?”

Steve waits, his breath held inside his chest burning, an inferno swirling inside his lungs as he waits for the confirmation from Tony—

“Okay, babe,” Tony says. “I’ll—Okay. You can call me that.”

Hearing Tony’s submission, his acquiescence, sends the air rushing out of Steve, and he smiles, wide and happy and victorious.

He leans forward over Tony’s body, holding the bracelets around Tony’s wrists steady, and takes in the makeup covering Tony’s face, the earrings and the dress and the peeking lingerie underneath. He drags his lips up Tony’s cheek, bites on Tony’s ear, and whispers:

“Good girl.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> if you're interested in more darkfic/angst/difficult subjects, come join me and some awesome people at the [SteveTony Darkfests Discord](https://discord.gg/X9xaRPT)!


End file.
